


act/react.

by vantas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationships, F/M, General Keith, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, implied/referenced child abandonment, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vantas/pseuds/vantas
Summary: In most realities, the Red Paladin of Voltron is born and raised on Earth.  This is not one of those realities. (Or: In which Keith is brought up as one of Lotor's trusted Generals, and the consequences that come from this.)





	1. yes, in all the colors of your grief.

**Author's Note:**

> My second fic for the [Keith Mini Bang](http://keithminibang.tumblr.com) on Tumblr! Features art by the lovely [moritomb](http://moritomb.tumblr.com) and beta reading by the equally as lovely [skiewrites](https://skiewrites.tumblr.com/), who are both far more wonderful than my foolish butt. Be sure to check their work out ASAP!

To say things are not going well is a horrible, terrible, _disastrous_ understatement.

The new paladins are, to put it simply, a downright mess.

They are spineless, repugnant and sloppy. Her father and his brethren had been fearsome warriors, but the humans currently residing in her home would have trouble besting even an Altean _child_. Time that could have been spent on planning and coming up with strategies to take care of the ship currently orbiting Arus' atmosphere is instead wasted on petty arguments. Allura's headache has reached new levels previously unknown to science, her stomach churning uncomfortably as she forces herself to present a picture of strength, but she cannot bring herself to comprehend why destiny has deemed these four humans worthy of following in her father's footsteps.

A true paladin would never consider running away to save his own skin, and yet—

(" _If all goes well, I will see you again soon."_ )

She closes her eyes, her entire body slumped against the only reminder she has left of her beloved father.

Alfor's A.I. watches her with a mockery of compassion in its eyes. She does not doubt for a second that all her father's love, all her father's _affection,_ had been uploaded to the machine before her, but the wounds of her heart are still as fresh as they were ten thousand deca-phoebs ago. Cryosleep does nothing to soothe the pain of loss, and the discovery of her entire civilization's death shortly after exiting the pods only served to aggravate her grief.

"Father," she begins, feeling so, so very small at this moment. "Please... I need you help. I don't know what to do." She knows her grief has to wait until she's made sure her new paladins have lived to see another day, but that knowledge does nothing to stop her eyes from stinging with unshed tears. A part of her desperately wishes she could go back in time. That she could prevent the entire sequence of events that led up to this moment, perhaps obliterating Zarkon's entire body before he could even think to rise from the dead — but a wish is only a wish.

Purposeless. Delusional. Impossible.

The A.I. seems to sigh, despite not having any real need to breathe. Its eyes are kind as it gazes upon her, but laced with sorrow. "When Zarkon attacked... I made the choice to hide the lions where he could never reach," it tells her, quietly. "I believed that the danger he represented greatly outweighed the benefits that any other alternative could bring to us."

"... I understand," she replies, lowering her gaze to stare down at her own two hands. Once upon a time, she had urged her father to make a foolish choice. She had asked him to stay and fight. But now — she cannot ignore the wisdom being imparted upon her. "I must take the three lions we have been able to acquire, and I must—"

"—No, Allura," her father( _'s remains_ ) cut her off, startling her out of her reverie. Her head snaps up, her eyes meeting the A.I.'s own as it continues. "You were right. All those years ago, _you were right_. In my fear, I chose to split up this universe's greatest defender. Now, innocent people pay the price for my cowardice. If I had allowed the others to stay by my side, perhaps Voltron could have prevented this tragedy. I cannot ask you to repeat my mistakes, my daughter."

Allura swallows around the lump in her throat. She blinks past the tears that have gathered in her eyes, ignoring the jackhammering of her heart against her ribcage as she forces herself up from where she lays on the ground. Her legs feel more like goo than flesh and bone, her knees trembling from how thoroughly wrung out she feels, but—

( _"Father! We must form Voltron and fight before it is too late!"_ )

She is no longer a child. The fate of the universe rests on her shoulders. In another room, four humans lay in wait for her decision. Their lives are in her hands.

"What am I to do about the Red Lion, Father?" she asks, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Though it's within our reach, we are still without a pilot worthy of gaining its trust."

Nonsensically, Alfor smiles down at her.

"Do you believe in destiny, Allura?"

When she reunites with _her_ paladins, she is dressed in all the colors of her grief. Pinks and whites and blacks, all wrapped around her body in a traditional suit of armor. She cannot ( _and would not_ ) bring herself to dress in her father's reds, but this is a suitable replacement. It is one that will honor him, just as it will honor all those who have been lost to Zarkon's path of death and destruction. If Coran's eyes become bright with tears when he lays his eyes on her, she pretends she does not see it.

One by one, her paladins rise from their seats. Their eyes are wide, varying levels of astonishment clear on their faces, but there will be time for awe later. For now, she stares at them with her head held high and her features schooled into those of the leader this universe needs her to me.

"Paladins," she begins, "It is time to suit up. We are taking this fight to Sendak."

And though she may have her reservations about this new, untested group of paladins — she does not miss the way they all fall into formation one by one.

She does not miss the way they all silently and unanimously respond to her call to arms.

(Perhaps things are not going as badly as they could be, all things considered.)

* * *

Being inside the Green Lion's cockpit is jarring.

This is not to say the interior is lacking, or that it is undeserving of awe. Quite the contrary, really. There is a certain sense of elation that washes over Allura's senses as she settles behind the pilot's seat, her hand gripping the backrest as she senses the steady hum of energy that radiates off the lion's very being. In a way, it feels a little bit like a homecoming.

But that does not mean the moment is without its sorrow, like the last several vargas of her life.

Seeing Pidge in Trigel's seat threatens to break her heart into pieces. It is yet another reminder that the paladins of old are gone. Living, breathing proof that she will never see Blaytz or Trigel or Gyrgan ever again, much less her own _father_. Only Zarkon remains now, and the thought alone is nearly enough to send her into a fit of rage.

It is an emotion she will gladly channel into retrieving the Red Lion.

Shiro stands beside her, one hand against the cockpit's roof and another braced against Pidge's seat. Both humans share a look, some kind of silent communication happening between the two, and then Pidge is nodding and establishing communication with both Lance and Hunk.

"Guys, we're almost in position," Shiro speaks up, once both paladins are visible on the holographic displays. "Are you ready?"

Although Allura can hardly call herself an expert on human behavior after knowing her new paladins for less than a quintant, there seem to be certain facial expressions that are universal among most species. The furrowing of the brows, the grimace on their lips, and even the dilatation of the pupil. She can recognize fear when she sees it, and finds it extremely commendable that Hunk and Lance still nod despite of it.

(It helps her opinion of them that she, too, is absolutely _terrified out of her mind_.

Just a little.)

"Ready," Lance responds, "One decoy, coming right up!"

Pidge may claim to have no formal training as a pilot, but the Green Lion still moves with elegant grace past Arus' moon, the debris serving to disguise their location as they approach Sendak's ship. They land on the lower hull, the lion clinging to the ship's exterior as they file out of the cockpit, aided by their armor's jet-packs. Pidge uses the green bayard to cut an opening into the ship, and then they are in.

Allura can hear Lance ask for Pidge's ETA once they've all landed on the ground, his tone understandably tense. It's not even seconds after Pidge answers his question that things seem to become chaotic outside, Hunk's startled yelp overly audible through their helmets.

"They noticed it was a bluff," Pidge says, putting into words what they all know.

"Then let's make this quick," Shiro responds, walking forward.

Holding the red bayard close to her side, Allura follows.

Even though ten thousand years have passed, it seems that Galran aesthetics have not changed drastically. Fluorescent purple hues still dominate the space around her, granting _just_ enough illumination to be considered adequate for the average Galra eyesight. The sight is familiar enough to hurt, and familiar enough that Allura finds herself walking on automatic, moving past Shiro and turning a corner in the direction where the hangars would usually be.

Their plan is simple enough. Pidge will stay behind to guard the exit, ensuring them an escape route should things go haywire. In the meantime, Shiro will accompany her to retrieve the Red Lion. It should be quick, easy, and most importantly of all, relatively uneventful. Should all go well, all three of them will be on their way before Hunk and Lance can sustain any significant damage, and _well_ before the Castle of Lions ends up in any significant danger.

In no part of their plan do they account for Shiro freezing up.

"— _Shiro?_ "

Allura hears Pidge react way before she realizes what's happening.

When she turns around, the Green Paladin has moved from the hallway leading to their escape route. Pidge's expression is laden with concern — and understandably so. Shiro is panting in exertion, left hand pressed against his head as he looks at the area surrounding them.

"Shiro?" Allura hurriedly asks, echoing Pidge's own concern. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

"I've been here before," he gasps out, "after I was taken by the Galra cruiser off Kerberos, they brought us here."

Even if Allura has no idea what a Kerberos is, she does not miss the way Pidge's eyes widen in shock at the revelation.

"So, that means... Your other crew members, they might be held captive here," Pidge says, tone tinged with something that Allura vaguely recognizes as hope. "We— We've got to find them. We _have_ to rescue them."

" _Pidge_ ," Shiro cuts in. His hands are balled into fists, his shoulders hunched as he turns to look at his fellow paladin. "We don't have enough time. We have to get the Red Lion and get back to Arus."

"But they're prisoners!" Pidge retorts, gesticulating with agitated, sweeping movements. "We can't just leave them here!"

"I understand that better than anyone else, but this is war, we have to—"

 _"_ — _My father and my brother were on that mission with you!"_

And just like that, it all makes sense.

"If you won't help me," Pidge says, tone pitched low after that outburst, turning around to start walking in the opposite direction. "Then I'll find them myself."

"You won't have to."

Shiro's turning towards her as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as if hoping to gain Allura's approval. Behind him, Pidge has turned around to stare at him in shocked silence.

She understands what it's like to be without your family.

She truly, honestly, does.

"Go," she tells them, "I have been aboard Galran ships before. I can handle myself."

"Princess," Pidge breathes out, as if no one had been arguing about what to do moments before. "Are you sure? _I_ can handle myself, too."

But Allura shakes her head. Despite the situation, she finds the corners of her lips tugging upwards into a smile. "I'm certain," she says, "Now, _go_. We shall regroup once—"

She doesn't get to finish that sentence. Not when the telltale sound of someone approaching their location reaches their ears. Shiro and Pidge make eye contact with her one last time, almost as if to confirm the choice they have all made, and then they split up.

Allura sprints down the hallway, far away from the footsteps of both her friends _and_ the enemy soldiers. Her heart is pounding against her chest, anxiety and terror clawing at her senses — but she has to succeed. She refuses to let her father down. She refuses to let her paladins down.

Everyone is counting on her.

Memory guides her down the winding hallways and narrow passages. Even so, it's not nearly enough for her to get a good sense of her current location. Though the aesthetics seem to have remained the same, it's clear that the blueprints _haven't_. By the time Allura finds herself faced with fluorescent green lights and yet another version of the Empire's insignia, she is out of breath and thoroughly exasperated.

" _P_ _lease,_ " she whispers, her knuckles undoubtedly turning ashen underneath her gloves as she increases her grip on the Red Bayard. "You allowed me to find you before. You answered my call. I ask of you, guide me _now_."

Distantly, she's aware of the other lions' presence. She senses the Blue Lion first, both nurturing and proud like no other. The Green Lion follows shortly thereafter, filled with infinite curiosity and an intricate bond with life itself. The Yellow Lion sticks close to the others, caring and kind, and an eternal pillar of strength for its brethren. Even locked behind the castle ship's walls, she can still sense a hint of the Black Lion's presence, dormant and yet receptive to her call.

It is the Red Lion that has, inexplicably, closed its proverbial doors to her.

Allura reaches out again, tapping into that bond her father created between her and all five of the lions. The Red Lion is _there,_  but there is something keeping her from properly reaching out to it. It's almost as if the lion has turned its back to her, wishing to keep her away from its current location, and the thought is enough to send her heart plummeting into her stomach.

"Guide me," she pleads again, pushing against the blockade. Each moment wasted is one moment closer to their discovery, and she cannot risk this. She will not risk losing the Red Lion to the Empire again. "Please, friend. If not for me, then for my father. _For Alfor._ "

The lion listens.

It feels like fire coursing through her veins. Foreign but not entirely unfriendly. It does not belong to her. It will, perhaps, never belong to her as it did to her father — but it is more than enough. Through the grief and the horror and the sadness, she feels the Red Lion's energy. It is here, leading her down the path as if it were some sort of invisible string.

All too eagerly, Allura follows after it.

It pushes her forward. Calls out to her. Guides her feet as she takes a left, a right, another right, until she sees nothing but enormous reinforced doors and smaller vessels that seem to have been designed specifically for the sake of transporting cargo from one room to another. She finds herself coming to a stop by the end of the hallway, a few feet short of stepping in front of one of the doors, and she knows that _this_ is it.

The door is already open when she approaches it.

Not enough to reveal the entirety of the room behind it, but enough that someone of her size and stature can easily slip inside. A sentry, perhaps, but not a fully grown Galran adult. Surely enough, she has no trouble making it through the opening, even with the bulk of her current armor.

Once she is inside, she's greeted by the sight of the Red Lion.

But someone is already here.

Sucking in a breath, Allura immediately ducks behind a set of crates to her left.

The person standing in front of the Red Lion's particle barrier is, for lack of a better word, _lithe_. Closer to her own stature than that of the average Galra, it would go a long way to explain the opening in the hangar door. Even so, they're dressed armor that clearly marks them as nothing more than a mere foot soldier in Zarkon's army. Chrome colors and a pink insignia, Allura can't help but to wonder how they got the necessary clearance to be in the same room with the Red Lion.

Carefully inching her way towards the corner of the crates, she observes the soldier. She watches as he places his hands on the Red Lion's particle barrier, each movement slow enough that it seems to have been enacted in some kind of trance. Once again, she finds herself seething with anger. The fact that her father's creation has ended up in Galran hands makes her blood boil, and she is almost overcome with the urge to strike the soldier down where they stand for taking part in all of this.

The keyword here is _almost_.

She needs a better plan if she is to succeed.

Taking a step back, Allura tries to figure out how to proceed from here—

"Who's _this_?"

—And then she is promptly and violently kicked out of her hiding place, _something_ hitting her smackdab on the chest.

She doesn't have enough time to brace herself before she's making contact with the ground, her father's bayard knocked out of her grasp as she skids across the floor. Vaguely, she's aware that the person standing in front of the Red Lion has turned around, speaking out in surprise while materializing a knife out of seemingly nowhere. _Less vaguely_ , Allura is keenly aware of the fact that all air has been knocked out of her lungs.

She props herself up on her knees and forearms, coughing (once, twice, _thrice_ ) as her chest constricts painfully. She reaches for the red bayard as quickly as she can force her body to react, but it's clearly not quickly _enough_. All it takes is an instant for her to get kicked again, flipping her over right before something makes contact with her chest. Allura screams, every single bone in her torso popping uncomfortably from the force of the impact. She's busy blinking the tears out of her eyes when the space above her seems to ripple, revealing her assailant.

"Now, now. I wouldn't try to get up if I were you," the woman says, clad in colors Allura doesn't recognize from her past. Black, blue and orange; it's a specific combination she never saw among Zarkon's army. Even the design of the helmet is downright different.

But an enemy is an enemy, no matter what.

She doesn't have enough time to contemplate the significance of the colors before she's being hauled up to her feet, her arms twisted behind her back as the woman pushes her forward. From the other end of the room, the soldier moves to meet them.

"Ezor," the soldier calls out, his voice surprisingly boyish. "What's this?"

"I don't know," the woman, _Ezor_ , answers nonchalantly, applying more pressure to her arms as Allura struggles against her grip. "She was sneaking around the back. Should we kill her?"

"... She isn't part of Sendak's crew," the soldier replies, not actually providing an answer to Ezor's question. "Let's see her face, I guess."

A second later, Allura's head is being roughly pulled back, her helmet getting knocked right off in the process. She grits her teeth, glaring at the man standing before her as the line of his shoulders suddenly goes rigid. Even though she cannot see his face because of the helmet enveloping it, it doesn't stop her from proceeding to spit on his visor.

"Go straight to _wozbly_."

The soldier steps back, reaching up with his right hand to wipe the saliva off his face.

Ezor wastes no time in tossing her to the ground for that stunt, jerking her head up by the hair and looking downright _pleased_ about all of this, like she's seconds away from having the time of her life.

And then, she doesn't.

Her expression changes in an instant, lips parting as her eyebrows rise as far as they can go. She doesn't release her grip on Allura, but she does pull back just enough to look at her companion.

"... Heyyy," Ezor begins, slowly. "Isn't she—?"

Fortunately, she doesn't have to hear her end that sentence.

 _Not so fortunately_ , it's at this precise moment that a small horde of Galran sentries burst into the room.

Ezor's grip loosens, just a little bit.

Allura takes advantage of of this opportunity, kicking Ezor off and diving for her father's bayard. The weapon comes to life beneath her fingers, its shape shifting to accommodate her preferred style of combat. A brilliant blue shield flickers into existence over her other arm, providing her cover as she rolls out of the way of a stray shot and pushes herself up to her feet.

Her chest still hurts. Breathing feels more like a chore than a necessary function of her body. She's surrounded by _two_ groups of enemies, with her helmet out of her reach.

She cannot call for aid without it.

She will have to make do with what she has.

The whip shoots out of her father's bayard with a flick of her wrist, ensnaring one of the sentries and knocking it right into its companions. That isn't enough to obliterate them, though, and Allura darts towards the sentries to deliver a more powerful attack.

From the corner of her eyes, she can see Ezor and the soldier holding their own ground. Ezor is a flurry of movements; kicks and punches all delivered with deadly precision, knocking weapons out of the sentries hands and ripping their limbs off in a matter of seconds.

The soldier's attacks are no less rapid or precise than Ezor's, but they are fueled by a fire that she lacks. There is a a double edged knife in his hand, one that he spins and twirls as he slashes at the sentries surrounding them. Each movement is aimed to kill. Necks and joints are cut through with no mercy. Several of the sentries end up getting stabbed, the soldier twisting the blade just _so_ before ripping it out, causing the machines' wiring to be fatally damaged in the process.

When Allura ends up getting cornered in the same space as the two of them, she does not find herself having to fight for her life against two different sets of enemies. Instead, there is something of an unspeaking accord between the three of them. A tilt of the soldier's head. A soft huff from Ezor's lips. Allura nods, though no less mistrustful of their intentions, and finds herself collaborating with the very same people who threatened to kill her doboshes before.

She slashes at the bodies of sentries who come within the range of her weapon, neatly slicing them in half. She throws punches and kicks at those who dare come to close to her. Throws those who attempt to hold her down over her shoulder, slamming their heads against the floor, the walls, or any sturdy surface she can find. Their heads and torsos crumple under the impact, sparks flying as she quickly discards the corpse.

They make quick work of the initial barrage, yes. But for each sentry they destroy, another one seems to pop out of nowhere to take its place.

The scene is chaotic enough that none of them notice the precise moment it happens.

( _It_ , of course, being the moment they all completely and utterly screw up.

Later on, Allura will sit on the floor of the Blue Lion's cockpit and realize when the mistake happened. She will realize that, distracted by the number of sentries trying to take them down, one of them must have tossed one of the quiznaking things in the direction of the control panel.

All it would have taken is one small push to operate the hangar's machinery. One small push is what it took to blast the airlock doors wide open.)

Allura's body is reacting before her brain can catch up to what's happening.

The whip extends far enough to coil itself around the closest thing it can find, preventing her from getting sucked out into space along with everything else.

The soldier has managed to latch onto a column, of all things. His arms are wrapped around the base of it, holding on for his dear life as he desperately looks around the room. He seems to find what he's looking for after a tick, and Allura follows his gaze to find Ezor.

The other woman has somehow bent and twisted her way into the cranny between two large, metallic cylinders affixed to the wall, clinging to them with the same strength she used to knock Allura off her feet before. Like her companion, her own helmet has been kept securely in place, protecting her from the effects of the vacuum of space.

Allura doesn't have that advantage.

Her helmet is, presumably, long gone.

Her only chance at _breathing_ while the airlock is open disappeared along with it.

It only takes seconds before she's feeling the effects of being exposed without the proper equipment. There is no air for her to breathe. Her skin feels like it is both burning and freezing at once, her blood and organs following suit. The saliva on her tongue feels like it is boiling, bubbling and charring the soft, pink tissue.

The pain which she is experiencing surpasses the effects of Ezor's kick by far.

Her bayard deactivates as she begins to lose consciousness.

She is dragged out almost immediately.

"— _Keith! What are you doing?!_ "

Allura doesn't see what happens next, but there is enough life left in her body for her to catch glimpses and snippets of it.

Something ( _someone_ ) envelops her body. A hand comes to grip the back of her neck, keeping her head from tilting backwards. An arm makes its way around her waist, pulling her close to whatever has caught her body.

She is dimly aware that someone is yelling. A name is repeated over and over again, more like a desperate prayer than anything entirely coherent. _Keith, Keith, Keith_. It's a name Allura has never heard before, entirely unlike those bestowed upon Alteans and Galrans alike.

She doesn't know anyone named Keith.

In the distance, a lion roars.

.

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.

(Nonsensically, Alfor smiles down at her.

"Do you believe in destiny, Allura?"

She raises both of her eyebrows, not quite understanding what he is getting at. Not seeing the relation between her inquiry and his response.

"Father?"

"I believe that for every act of cruelty, there is an even greater act of kindness on its way. That is what Zarkon, my old friend, has wrought."

"I don't understand," she breathes out, shaking her head. "How can I save the Red Lion— _Your_ lion from Zarkon's clutches?"

"Its new paladin will set it free," her father replies, tone so soft and gentle it may very well reduce her to tears. "Now go, my daughter, and fight. My will is with you.")

.

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_"Come on, come on, come on—"_

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

When Allura comes to, she is laying on her side.

Everything around her is red.

A helmet has been placed down on the ground right next to her. It is not her own, but it is familiar. Chrome plated with pink accents. An opaque visor that presumably allows the user to see the world surrounding them, but bars anyone else from gazing upon their visage.

Almost as if in a trance, she reaches out to it. Brings it closer to her face. Holds it up like it's something new, something she has never seen before.

It may very well be the aftereffects of oxygen deprivation.

"You survived."

The helmet falls back to the floor with a clatter, rolling away from her reach and towards the pilot's seat.

Abruptly, she becomes very aware of the person who has seemingly materialized out of thin air in her own personal bubble.

The first thing she realizes is that he's human.

Rounded ears. Black pupils. Dark hair that frames his face, reaching past his neck and brushing against the collar of his armor. His lips are set into a firm line, brows furrowed as he gazes at her with some approximation of concern. His skin is nearly as pale as Shiro and Pidge's, if not more so.

(It reminds her—

Are her paladins okay? Were they able to escape?

She doesn't know.

 _She doesn't know_.)

Her next epiphany can be summarized in two points:

One, the human crouching next to her and the soldier who threatened to kill her are one and the same.

And two, they are aboard the _Red Lion_.

Allura throttles the man crouching next to her before he has a chance to react.

The soldier grunts in surprise, knocked down against the floor as Allura digs her thumbs into the column of his throat.

"How did you get inside the Red Lion?!" She asks, leaning forward and placing all her weight into her upper body. Part of her recognizes how irrational this is. You cannot interrogate someone if you are currently strangling them, and yet—

"S... Seriously?!" He chokes out, voice little more than a rasp as he grabs at her wrists. Blinded by anger and rage and _grief_ , his attempts to rip her hands away from his throat only make her increase the intensity of her grip. If it were up to her, she would happily blast this man and the rest of Zarkon's army into the nearest black hole.

But it's not up to her.

Abruptly, Allura's entire world is tilted on its axis.

Something slams against the Red Lion from the outside, causing it to swerve out of control and giving the man beneath her enough time to flip them over. He rips her hands off his throat, blotchy, red imprints left in their wake.

"I _saved_ you!" he shouts at her, wheezing and coughing and sounding very much like someone who nearly got choked out. “What the heck is wrong with you?!"

Allura knees him in the crotch in response to his question.

His grip on her wrists loosens up pretty quickly after that.

"You're with the Empire! You're with _him!_ "

"—Doesn't gratitude mean anything to you?!"

"I will _not_ show gratitude to vile creatures!"

In another time and another place, Allura would have rather eaten her fist before getting caught rolling around on the ground with the enemy like she's nothing more than an ill-mannered child.  But this is not another time and another place, and preserving decorum is a fool's errand while in the middle of a war. This is how she finds herself pulling at the soldier's hair, pushing her thumbs against his throat, scratching his flesh with her fingernails — and overall employing all sorts of tactics that would have her late combat instructor shaking his head at her in shame.

(But then again, all Alteans can be considered _late_ now.

And all Alteans would be quite ashamed of the state their princess is currently in.

This is a deeply upsetting thought that Allura will later carefully take apart, compartmentalize, and stow away where it will never see the light of day again.)

Allura finds herself in the pilot's seat before she realizes, sprawled across the soldier's lap as she attempts to neutralize him.  The finer details are lost in a flurry of movements, but not enough that she has no idea of what's happening. She can feel him trying to break her left arm at the same time that she pins his left hand against the Red Lion's control panel, palm down.

In retrospect, the airlock wasn't the biggest mistake of her entire life.   _This_ is.  

The Red Lion's cockpit lights up, the previously dim illumination increasing in intensity as the holographic displays spring to life.  Diagnostics, commands, and direct links to the other lions appear before the two of them, and though Allura cannot see her own face at this very moment — she's pretty sure it mirrors the expression present on the faces of her Paladins.

(Vaguely, she registers that Shiro and Pidge are aboard the Green Lion once again, a small gaggle of aliens standing behind them.

She is so, _so_ thankful.)

Pidge gasps.  Hunk shouts something unintelligible.  Shiro utters her name. But it is Lance that reacts the loudest, sputtering and leaning forward in his seat even as the Blue Lion spins out of the way of enemy fire.  "Allura?!" he yelps, eyes wide as he glances back and forth between her face and that of the soldier. "What— How— Wait, wait, wait! Who the heck is that?!"

"Lance!"  Allura quickly shouts out in response, fighting to keep her grip over the soldier's hand.  "The Red Lion! I require your—"

Unfortunately, she doesn't have enough time to finish her sentence.  The soldier wretches his hand out of Allura's grip, scooping up his helmet in one swift movement and shoving it over her face.  It seals seamlessly around her neck, melding with the armor she current wears.

"Nope!"  the soldier shouts, opening the hatch directly above the pilot's seat.  "Not having this conversation! If you want her, you can have her!"

Allura finds herself, once again, ejected into the void of space.  

She is helpless to do anything about her current situation as she aimlessly spins around, further and further away from her father's lion.  Her heart is jackhammering against her ribcage. She only barely registers a small figure exiting Sendak's ship and latching onto the Red Lion before the lion blasts off, using its full speed.

It seems like Ezor made it out safely after all.  Allura is not sure whether to be glad or disappointed over it.

It doesn't matter.  She gets scooped up by the Blue Lion moments later.

Lance rushes over to her as soon as they're away from any imminent danger.  She's sitting on the ground of the Blue Lion's cockpit, reviewing her mistakes one by one and taking them apart with expert precision. She makes a list of all the things she could have done differently; all she bad choices that led up to this moment, and how she is single handedly responsible for every one of them.

She feels Lance's hand against her back, warm and comforting and something of a grounding presence as she silently breaks down.

"Princess," he begins, quietly.  "What happened?"

Allura takes a deep breath, her hand pressed against her sternum as a pressure steadily builds up beneath her skin.

"... I failed," she begins, voice trembling. "The galra, they— The Red Lion is gone.  It didn't accept me as its Paladin."


	2. six, seven, eighteen.

In most realities, the tale of Voltron's Red Paladin goes a little bit like this:

Born and raised on Earth. Cared for by a single father who, despite having to part ways with his beloved for reasons undisclosed, gave his child as much love and attention as he physically could before his untimely death. Orphaned by the age of six. Bounced around from group home to foster parenting seven times. Turned down for adoption _once_. Received more disciplinary warnings than should be appropriate for a boy of his age and stature, much to the chagrin of his teachers and caretakers.

The turning point of this tale occurs when he hits the age of fourteen.

It's a lovely morning.  The sun is shining. The birds are singing.  The temperature is wonderfully comfortable despite the fact that they live smackdab in the middle of Arizona.  The only thing that ruins this day is the fact that it also happens to be a school day — but that is fine. There are other things that counteract the monotony of seventh grade.

Namely, a young man who is seven years his senior.  The man turns to him and smiles, looking at him like he is someone _deserving_ of acknowledgement. It is an expression so pleasant, so _genuine_ — that it immediately warms the cockles of the Red Paladin's heart.

The man places a hand on his shoulder, so very gently, and tells him:

"You did pretty well on the simulator. Have you ever considered a career in space exploration?"

Said young man is known as Takashi Shirogane.  He is a member of the Galaxy Garrison. Formerly a student, and now a teacher's assistant.  From this moment forward, he plays an important role in shaping the life of the Red Paladin.  Though the paladin's sense of morality and justice existed long before his meeting with Shirogane, there is no denying that the young man plays an important role in giving themshape and direction.

After all, his life would be a lot different if it weren't for him.

But this is not what happens in every reality.

* * *

Life is something like a game of Russian Roulette. High risks. Unpredictable.  Always comes with a chance of blowing one's brains out and leaving them to rot in the sun.

Not all realities place the Red Paladin on Earth. Some forego giving him a father, six years of a happy upbringing, and an opportunity to learn he can be a much better person than others would believe. Some do not allow him to meet Takashi Shirogane on Earth for a variety of reasons.

Some realities, to be frank, are simply somewhat of a _mess_.  

* * *

One reality plays out like this:

A mother forced to flee for the safety of her lover, unaware she is with child. A boy born in the midst of a never ending war, loved and cared for, but ultimately abandoned when a mission goes wrong. Orphaned and lost in a universe where he is far too Galran to be trusted, but not Galran enough to be considered worthy by the Empire. Constantly wandering, constantly questioning, constantly trying to answer the question of why he is so different from every other being that shares his age and stature.

Surviving is a struggle, but he would never willingly lay down to die.  

The turning point of this tale occurs, once again, when he is fourteen deca-phoebs old.

There's a guard pinning him down against the ground, heavy and sweaty and bathed in a foul odor that nearly makes the Red Paladin gag. The guard's co-workers lay on the asphalt around them, either severely injured, unconscious, and in one particular case, dead.  The boy doesn't quite regret this, not really, but it does make things significantly more complicated. After all, there's a large difference between the punishment for petty theft and murder.

Namely, that one of them leads to death while the other does not.

The guard's knife is pressed against the paladin's neck — and then it is not.  

His impromptu execution is interrupted by the appearance of a cloaked figure. The boy barely registers the words that are exchanged between the guard and his savior, but he does know that the pressure keeping him pinned against the ground disappears within ticks.  The guard takes something from the other man's hand before walking away, acting like he's seen nothing and done nothing.

A moment later, there is a man crouching down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to recognize who it is.  Anyone who's even had the slightest bit of contact with the Empire would know of him, despite his prolonged exile.

"Hello," Prince Lotor says to him, like they are having a pleasant conversation in the middle of a lush terrace and not in the middle of gross alleyway. It's a little bit jarring, maybe. "What's your name?"

It takes the Red Paladin a moment to find his voice. His heart is jackhammering against his sternum. There is a lump caught in his throat. It feels like cold water has been poured all over him, chilling him to the bone.  Somehow, he feels more alarmed now than he did when someone was literally about to murder him. When the boy speaks, it's a hoarse whisper.

"... Keith," he says, unsteadily. "My name is Keith."

Lotor smiles at him like Keith has just revealed the secret to the universe. At the time, it was an unpleasant expression. Now — not so much.

(But that is something to get into at another time, and another place.)

"Very well, Keith," Lotor says, holding a hand out to him. "I see what you've done here, and I must say, I am quite impressed. How would you like to join me? I could use a man with _your_ spirit by my side."

It's not the best of offers.

It is an agreement to become yet another soldier for the Empire.  The very same cannibalistic machine that has brought pain and destruction across the universe, taking from those who are too weak to defend themselves and giving nothing in return.  He still remembers the way his mother had spoken against Zarkon's reign, her words laced with vitriol as she shaped his sense of justice from an early age.

But Keith is young and scared and lonely.  He has been living on the streets for seven quintants out of the fourteen that he's lived.  His mother is gone. He never knew who his father was. Nobody cares about a child who looks too foreign to be considered Galran, but who has _just_ enough Galran blood running through his veins to be considered worthy of love.  

Nobody has looked at him like he's worth something in a very long time.  

In this reality, Keith takes Lotor's hand and does not look back.

* * *

This was then.

And this is now.

* * *

At the age of eighteen, Keith finds himself piloting Voltron's right arm.  He finds himself piloting the _Red Lion_.

This may or may not be one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

Behind him, he can hear Ezor mirroring his own distress in a far more audible manner, pacing back and forth and muttering to herself.

This was meant to be a simple recognizance mission. All they had to do was lay low, get the information they needed, and get out before Sendak could catch on to the fact that he suddenly had one extra soldier in his fleet.   _One_ extra soldier, because Ezor could conveniently make herself invisible at a moment's notice while Keith could not.  It was an ability that he was now keenly envious of, if only because maybe it would have helped him avoid this entire mess.

He drags a hand down his face, ignoring the bruises and scratches that the Altean had given him.  It's been nearly an entire varga by now, and he still doesn't know what to think about that. He still doesn't know how to react to the fact that there is yet another Altean running around, showing herself in plain sight and decked out in the traditional armor of the Paladins of Voltron.  It's — _well_.

It's a lot to unpack, to say the least.

It is also a lot more than Keith is capable of processing right now, with the fact that they failed their prince hanging over their heads.

"Lotor is going to have our _necks_ ," Ezor says, for what feels like the nth time since they fled the Javeeno Star System.  "Goodbye, days of throwing rocks at sentries. Hello, death!"

Keith rolls his eyes, pretending he is very busy piloting a machine that basically flies itself.  "He's not," he says, despite knowing that Lotor is going to be _disappointed_ and, truly.  That is the worst punishment of all.  "We've done worse in the past. It's going to suck, but we're going to be fine."

Or, well.  So he hopes.  

But loyalty and adoration make it incredibly easy to override any sense of fear or self preservation, so it's alright. Honestly. Sincerely.

"Worse than stealing a lion from Sendak's ship when we were supposed to be undercover?" Ezor asks, disbelief evident in her tone.  " _Really?_ "

"Look," he begins, even though Ezor is already looking.  "I'm trying to be optimistic. Cut me some slack, dude."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," she huffs, moving to stand behind the pilot's seat.  She leans over the backrest, gently tapping his head with her knuckles. "I thought I was going to have to scoop your corpse out of space.  What were you _thinking?!_ "  

What was he thinking, indeed.  

He makes a face when she taps him in the head again, leaning forward and away from her reach.  His expression is visible against the chrome plating — distorted, but noticeably petulant. Great.

"She was an Altean," he says, frowning.  "And— She was wearing Paladin armor. You noticed it, didn't you?  I thought Lotor might need her in the future, so, I..."

"So, you... Jumped into space? To go after someone who was _totally_ planning to stab you when I found her?"  she asks, squinting at him. Keith pretends not to notice.  "You could have died if our kitty here didn't go after you."

Well, yeah.  He could have died.  The Altean ( _Allura_ , the Blue Paladin had called her) could have died, too, considering she was without a helmet.  But everything turned out okay. Or — okay- _ish_.  They still have the whole stolen lion problem to deal with.

But for now, Keith huffs out a laugh.  "You can just say you were worried about me, you know."

Ezor bumps her knuckles against the back of his head with more gusto.  They laugh and pointedly pretend not to be stressed out about the fact that they screwed the pooch big time.  It's a largely successful endeavor, up until they reach the location where Lotor's cruiser is stationed.

Acxa's face pops up in the holographic displays, shock understandably apparent in her face for all of two ticks before she schools her expression into something more fitting of her rank.  "Identify yourself."

Keith opens up the communications channel on their end.  Almost instantly, Ezor leans over the pilot's chair and obfuscates his view before he can get a single word in.

"Heee _eeyyyyyyy_ , Acxa," she says, cheerfully.  It almost sounds like she wasn't yelling about their deaths earlier.  "It's us! And we brought a new kitty to play with Kova. Mind letting us in?"

Acxa's mouth opens, soundlessly.  It closes. Opens again, and then — she nods.  "I... yes. Of course," she says, appropriately disturbed.  "The docking bay is unlocked. I'll alert the others of your arrival."

"Thank you,"  Keith says, his mouth moving on automatic as he pushes Ezor out of the way.  He moves the Red Lion towards the cruiser's docking bay with expert precision.  He can feel the lion's energy humming beneath his fingertips, almost coming off as _comforting_ , and he doesn't know if he should be appreciative or disturbed by it.

(Later on, he settles for a combination of the two.)

Zethrid and Narti are already there when they get out of the lion.  Zethrid is staring at it, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as she gazes upon the proof of the biggest mistake Keith has ever made in his life.  Narti is her usual unreadable, impassive self, Kova cradled in her arms as the cat happily purrs away at the show of affection.

Keith wants to say something, _anything_ to explain this — but he doesn't get the chance before his prince is walking into the hangar.  Acxa is right behind him, expression pinched as she gives Keith a look of utter sympathy.

Almost automatically, he and Ezor take position.  Heads bowed, their fists against their chests. Complete submission.  Complete reverence.  

"... This wasn't the plan,"  Lotor says, after a silence that stretches on for far too long.  He's squinting at the Red Lion, disbelief written all over his face.  "What happened?"

Ezor takes a deep breath.  Her posture is ramrod straight, which is an oddity by itself but understandable given the situation.  "There were... Um... Complications?"

Lotor's gaze immediately snaps towards her, eyes narrowed.  "Complications," he parrots back. "I'm afraid I will need more elaboration that that.

"There was an Altean on Sendak's ship,"  Keith says, hastily, before Ezor can answer.  He cannot bring himself to meet Lotor's eyes as he speaks.   "She was wearing Paladin armor. We got thrown out into space together, and— The lion followed me?"

Well, it's not a lie.   _Well_ , it's the abridged version of the series of events that led up to this moment.  But further details can wait until he's making an official report and it no longer feels like his heart is trying to push its way up his throat.

"... So the Red Lion chose you,"  Lotor cuts him off, his voice now tinged with a bit of awe.  Keith hears Lotor approach, moments before he feels his hand on his chin.  He lifts his face up, giving him a smile that is all teeth. "This is not what I intended, but it's not an unwelcome development.  We will observe and plan accordingly, but for now... Tell me, Keith. You said her name was Allura?"

.

.

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.

.

Several solar systems away, Allura sits on the floor of the Blue Lion's cockpit.  Her heart in her throat as she witnesses what little is of her old life falling in shambles around her.

Even though they did their best to succeed, holding onto the hope vested in her by her father( _'s remains_ ), it still wasn't enough.  

"Princess," Coran calls out to her, a minute trembling to his voice as they all watch Sendak's ship make its way towards Arus.  "The cruiser has been repaired. What are we going to do?"

The Red Lion is gone.  She doesn't know if Sendak's aware that they didn't steal it, but that hardly matters.  They're grossly overpowered. There are recently liberated prisoners in the crypods downstairs.  Though she doesn't want to abandon Arus or her childhood home, she doesn't have much of a choice.  Not when the castle is largely unoperational and they have no hope of forming Voltron in their current state.  

Ten thousand deca-phoebs ago, her father had been forced to make a difficult decision.

Now Allura finds herself in a similar position, furiously blinking away her tears as she comes to a realization about what she has to do.  

"We... We must abandon the Castle of Lions," she says, the words feeling like she's pushing sludge through her teeth.  She can't bring herself to look at the expressions on the faces of her paladins. This is all her fault. "Paladins, take the cryopods and get to your lions immediately.  We don't have much time."

It's the second time she's been forced to abandon something she loves.  Unfortunately for her, there is no sign of this trend coming to an end.

The next several doboshes of her life pass in a blur.  She is there, and yet — she is not. Her body is moving on automatic, going through the motions and forcing her to take what she can before boarding the Blue Lion.  It's a tight fit, with the two cryopods stored behind her and all, but she has no room to complain. Not really.

"The Black Lion is still within the castle," she tells her paladins, tired and weary and grieving all over again.  "We must make certain that Sendak cannot get to it easily."

Through the communication channels, Shiro's brows furrow in confusion.  His right hand pressed against the ceiling of the Green Lion's cockpit.  Pidge mirrors his expression with uncanny accuracy.

"How are we going to do that, Princess?" he asks.  

"We fire at the castle's spires," she explains, "Thusly destroying a large part of its navigational systems.  If Sendak wishes to give the Black Lion to Zarkon, then I am afraid he will have his work cut out for him." 

(But despite the surety with which she speaks, she still finds herself screwing her eyes shut when she gives the order to fire.

It does nothing to block out the sound of the lion's own weaponry making contact with the castle's structure.

It does nothing at all.)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on: [tumblr](http://carcinology.tumblr.com/) • [twitter](https://twitter.com/beheads).


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